


Worth the Trouble and Worth the Pain

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 20:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3949930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Clarke has one year to get married. Her personal guardsman is not pleased about the situation, but there's not a lot he can do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth the Trouble and Worth the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> I say this is a fantasy AU, but I really put absolutely zero effort into world-building with this one. It's kind of shameful, but whatever. Title from Belle and Sebastian.

The official celebration for Princess Clarke's eighteenth birthday will, without a doubt, be a lavish, showy affair, attended by scores of nobles and foreign dignitaries, lasting well into the night. It's going to be an occasion to remember. It's a big deal.

Her unofficial celebration is at midnight on the morning of, in her chambers, and it's just Bellamy, his little sister, and the princess, getting drunk off some wine his sister got from one of her friends in the kitchens.

"Fuck," says Clarke, and it's still a little funny to hear her curse. It took him a few years to realize she was a person, just like them, and it's really unfortunate that he did. He should have kept on thinking of her as a princess. Someone unreachable. "Fuuuuuuuuuck." She takes another gulp of wine, and Bellamy takes the bottle away from her. She glares at him. "It's my _birthday_ ," she says, petulant.

"You're already going to hate that party," he tells her. "You don't want to be hungover on top of that."

"Maybe I do," she says, darkly, but she flops down and puts her head into Octavia's lap. Octavia pets her hair. "I don't want to get married," she says, to no one in particular.

"I know," says Octavia. "Maybe it won't be so bad. There must be nice princes out there."

"It's not about how nice they are," Clarke says. She worries her lip. "I just--I'd do anything for my people, you know that. But I'd like to be able to do things for myself too. Things like--love."

Octavia looks up at Bellamy, helpless, and he doesn't know what to say either. His honest opinions on Clarke's marriage aren't something he's ever going to be able to share. Her parents will pick an appropriate prince or nobleman for her, and once they're married and he's sure she's safe and happy, he'll ask to get transferred to some less painful post. Somewhere he'll never have to see her.

"O's right," he says. "Your parents won't make you marry someone awful. It might not be who you'd pick yourself, but at least it won't be Prince Cage or something."

She makes a face. "Don't even joke about that." Clarke and her mother have more than their share of differences, but they're in total agreement about Prince Cage: they loathe him.

"See?" he says. "Could be worse."

"If they're awful, you can kill them for me, can't you?" Clarke asks him, with wide, beseeching eyes. It's very inconsiderate of her, to look at him like that. "I can say they were threatening me."

"If I kill a prince, even one who's actually threatening you, they'll probably behead me to keep a war from starting," he points out. "Sorry, Princess. I like my head."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," says Clarke, with a sigh. "I like your head too."

"It won't be so bad," Octavia says again. "Your parents had an arranged marriage, didn't they? They're happy."

"I know," says Clarke. "And I know it's my duty and it'll be fine and all that. But--" she bites her lip. "It's my birthday, and I'm going to be upset about it. For the next hour. And then I'll go back to being a princess." She slants Bellamy a look. "Now give me the wine."

He takes a generous swig himself before he hands it over. "Yes, your highness," he says, and she makes a rude gesture.

Yeah, he's never going to tell her how he feels about her getting married. Not ever.

*

Bellamy became Princess Clarke's personal guard when he was eighteen and she was twelve. The assignment had been a total shock, even though Clarke was friends with his sister. Bellamy was an untested guard, the bastard son of one of Queen Abigail's ladies-in-waiting, someone who should have been shuffled off to an insignificant post far from the castle. Octavia had told Clarke as much, and Clarke decided she wouldn't allow the two of them to be separated. She'd hand-picked him and refused to hear any arguments about it.

Even at twelve, the princess was a force to be reckoned with.

It was the best thing that could have happened to him, he knows that. The captain of the guard took on his training personally, refusing to have his princess protected by a green pup, as he put it, and he knows most of the court well enough that when he leaves Clarke's service, he'll have his choice of new positions.

It's great, apart from the fact that she's the princess and he's a bastard guardsman, and she has to get married this year. Aside from that, his life is perfect.

*

"You look like you're having a blast."

Bellamy likes Duke Kyle. He's Clarke's cousin, a genuine, friendly man with a good head on his shoulders who doesn't disrespect the poor for being born less fortunate. If Clarke doesn't marry by her nineteenth birthday, he'll be next in line for the throne, and he wouldn't be a bad ruler, not really.

But Clarke would be better.

"Who says I'm not?" Bellamy asks. He's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, glaring at Clarke's entire birthday celebration. She's currently dancing with Prince Jasper, who's a nice enough sort, but from what Bellamy can see, he hasn't stopped talking the whole time they've been together. Clarke probably has a headache.

"Well, I have it on good authority a lovely young maiden was hoping you'd dance with her, but she was too scared to get near you."

"I'm not here to dance." He glances at Kyle. "Why would she want to dance with me if I'm so intimidating?"

Kyle shrugs. "Some women are into danger. You know you can't glare all my cousin's suitors to death, don't you?"

"Just the bad ones," Bellamy mutters. "What do you want, my lord?"

"I'm escaping from Lady Anya, mostly. I tried to kiss her when I was eight, and every time I've seen her since, she's tried to beat me to death." 

"You deserve it," Bellamy says.

"Clarke's really letting you get disrespectful," Kyle observes. He claps Bellamy on the shoulder. "I know you're not here to have fun, but you could try it anyway. Just to see if you like it."

"You flatter me with your concern, my lord," says Bellamy, straight-faced.

"You are a fucking asshole," says Kyle, and they grin at each other. "See if I'm nice to you again."

The dance ends, and Clarke comes over. She looks tired around the eyes, but he doubts anyone else will notice. "I've had five people ask me if I've picked a husband yet," she tells them, and glares at her cousin. "How come dukes don't have to be married by the time they're nineteen?"

"I don't know, but it's shitty," says Kyle, genuine. "Any good prospects?"

"No, and if you ask again, I'll have you hanged."

"Well, dance with Bellamy," says Kyle, sort of shoving them together. "He needs to do something aside from glaring."

Clarke stumbles a little, and Bellamy catches her automatically. She smiles up at him. "You do need something to do aside from glaring." She takes his hand and tugs, and he follows her onto the dance floor. "My father thinks some prince from the north is the best option," she says, conversational, sliding her hands onto his shoulders; his own find her waist. He's a competent, if not impressive, dancer--Octavia saw to that. "Finn. He's not here tonight, he's on his way down now, should be here in a few weeks. My mother is just casting as wide a net as possible, hoping to find someone I don't hate."

"That doesn't seem impossible," he says. "It's a low bar to clear."

"I know." She sounds dejected. "I just--I hate everything about it. It's hard to not hate all the suitors too."

"I know," he says, rubbing his thumb against her side and instantly regretting it. "I won't let them marry you off to anyone awful. I promise. I'll kidnap you if I have to."

She laughs. "I'll hold you to that," she says, but they both know it's a lie. Clarke would never willingly abandon her kingdom. She'll do what she has to do to secure her throne.

"I hope you find someone you like," he says, and it's honest. He wants her to be happy.

She sighs, and her hands tighten on his shoulders. "Me too."

*

Clarke refused it even think about her marriage until she was eighteen, which seemed ill-advised to Bellamy, but he wanted to put off thinking about it as much as she did, so he never argued the point. Plenty of princesses from kingdoms with similarly restrictive laws about female eligibility for succession have already chosen their husbands by their eighteenth birthdays; Bellamy suspects Clarke was hoping the law would change before it became an issue.

The courting starts the day after her birthday, and it's exhausting and terrible. Queen Abigail has clearly been preparing for this for just as long as Clarke has been avoiding it, and the castle is suddenly full of suitors. Some of them, like Prince Jasper and Lord Monty, are familiar and mostly welcome, if not people Clarke wants to marry. Others, like Prince John Murphy and Prince Cage, test Bellamy's resolve to not murder anyone for fear of being beheaded.

"Why did she even invite Cage?" Octavia asks. It's been two weeks of dinner parties and chaperoned walks in the gardens and overly polite conversations. He's amazed Clarke hasn't punched anyone yet.

"Politics," says Clarke. She's lying on her sofa with her arm over her eyes. "It would be rude if he was excluded."

"It would be ruder if you or Bell killed him."

"Whoever kills him should get a medal," Bellamy mutters, and Clarke grins at him.

"When's the one your father likes showing up?" asks Octavia. "And why does your father like him?"

"Next week, sometime," says Clarke, with a sigh. "I don't know. He met him on that trip he took a couple years ago. He thinks he's--unobjectionable. Attractive, charming, and inoffensive."

"Doesn't sound right for you," says Bellamy without thinking. Clarke raises her eyebrows, and he wishes he could bite off his tongue. "I just think you'd be better off with someone who will challenge you. Someone with some spark." Octavia and Clarke are both looking at him, and he really regrets opening his mouth. "Ignore me," he mutters. "Inoffensive sounds good. Go for him."

"Have you thought about telling her?" Octavia asks, when he's walking her back to her room.

"Why?" he asks, not bothering to pretend he doesn't know what she's talking about. "What's the point?" He sighs. "Even if she did--even if she felt the same, it wouldn't make a difference. Might be worse, honestly. She doesn't get to pick this stuff for herself."

Octavia huffs. "Maybe she would. She's Clarke. She's good at getting her way."

Bellamy thinks of how tired she looks these days, how brittle her smile is. "She has enough people trying to marry her right now," he says. "She doesn't need another one."

She frowns, but doesn't argue the point. He goes back to his room, beside Clarke's, in case something happens to her, and thinks about going to ask her about it. Going to tell her _he'd_ be good for her.

He goes to sleep instead.

*

Prince Finn is, as promised, attractive, charming, and inoffensive. Clarke seems to like him better than any of her other options, and Bellamy can't exactly disagree. He doesn't think any of them are particularly good matches, and he can't get excited about any of them as his potential future king, but it's not really his decision. Even if Clarke seems to act like it is, half the time.

"What did you think of--" Clarke clucks her tongue, consulting a list of names. Bellamy tries not to think it's cute, that she has a list of them, with notes. "Sterling?"

Bellamy shrugs. "Most of them run together, honestly," he tells her. "Which one was he?"

"Blonde hair, on the young side, only seventeen, enthusiastic about horses."

He snorts. "Oh, right, yeah. I think he'd leave you alone to rule the kingdom and just spend all his time riding, if that's what you're looking for."

"Not really," she says, leaning back and rubbing her eyes. "But I don't think any of them have what I'm looking for."

It feels dangerous to ask, but he can't help it. "What are you looking for?"

She smiles at him. "Someone offensive," she teases.

He flushes. "Shut up."

"But seriously," she says. "You were right. That's what I want. Someone who will be a real partner, someone I can talk to and have fun with. But all of them are on their best behavior, it's impossible to tell if any of them even has a _personality_."

"Well, liking horses is a personality," he teases. She throws a pillow at him, and he laughs. "Okay, yeah. I see what you mean." He grins. "You know, we could work on that."

She lights up; Clarke likes scheming a lot better than she likes courting. "Yeah? How?"

*

Bellamy can be pretty intimidating, when he wants to be. He's rarely the largest person in a room, but he knows how to carry himself like he's larger than he is, and he's a very good fighter. He's spent years standing a foot or two behind Clarke and scaring people who are talking to her. He hasn't been doing that to the suitors, but that means they're all bland and comfortable and boring.

So he starts looming.

Clarke has trouble not giggling, and Bellamy does too, honestly. The boring ones look like they're going to faint, the bad ones look like they're going to try to fight him. Sterling is too oblivious to notice; he just starts talking to Bellamy about horses too. He doesn't think Clarke should marry him, but he's at least the most fun of any of them.

Cage pretends Bellamy doesn't exist, like always; Finn introduces himself and tries to chat, which just makes Bellamy surlier.

They all still treat Clarke like a perfect princess, so she starts being surly _with_ Bellamy. The two of them glaring at the same time is actually terrifying. None of the suitors, even the most oblivious ones, have any interest in getting anywhere near the both of them when they look like that, so Clarke gets a break from the constant flirtations.

It takes Queen Abigail a few days to notice, but when she does, she's furious.

"They're all being too _nice_ ," Clarke says, crossing her arms and glaring right back at the queen. Bellamy isn't glaring anymore, because she's _the queen_ , and she could have him reassigned somewhere awful before he's sure Clarke is taken care of. He's not an idiot. "I'm not going to marry someone I don't even know, and none of them are even acting like _people_."

The queen's jaw works, and she looks over at Bellamy. "Leave," she says.

"Don't," says Clarke, and this is always his least favorite thing, when she disagrees with one of her parents, and they're both giving him orders. Clarke knows it too, so she says, "Or, do. Sorry. I'll come with you."

"This conversation isn't over," says the queen. "It takes time to plan a royal wedding, Clarke. If you'd let us start earlier, this wouldn't be happening, but you only have nine months before you turn nineteen, and you're going to be married." There's a pause, and the queen adds, softer, "I don't want to have to decide for you. But I'll do what's right for the kingdom. You have one month to make up your mind, or I will."

Clarke looks like she wants to argue, but she squares her shoulders and nods. "I understand."

Queen Abigail catches Bellamy's arm before he can go. "Can you talk to her?"

"I don't think there's anything I can say," he says.

"She trusts your judgement. If you make a suggestion, she'll probably listen. She won't listen to me."

Bellamy tries to imagine a world where he tells Clarke which of her suitors she should marry; it's hard enough just giving his broad opinions of them when she asks. "We've been talking about it," he says. "I tell her my thoughts when she asks for them, your highness."

The queen lets him go. "It's for her own good," she says, and it's probably even true.

When they get back to Clarke's rooms, she sigh and says, "Unless I come up with someone better, Finn, I guess."

"I still vote for the kid who likes horses," says Bellamy. "You'll always know where you stand with a kid who likes horses."

Clarke snorts. "Less important to him than horses?"

"Exactly."

"I think you kidnapping me is still my best option," she mutters, scowling.

"Any time you want."

*

The wedding date is set for exactly six months after Clarke's eighteenth birthday, and the day after the announcement, Bellamy gets reassigned. Marcus Kane, the royal adviser, tells him personally, which would be flattering, except that it's awful.

"No offense, sir," says Bellamy, "but I don't take my orders from you. If Princess Clarke wants me gone--"

"She doesn't," says Kane. "As far as I know. This was a request from the princess's fiance's family. They felt it was inappropriate that the princess's personal guard was so--" He clears his throat. "They didn't feel a young, unmarried man was the best person for that position, and the king and queen agreed that you would be reassigned. You'll still be in the palace, close to your sister. You haven't done anything wrong. This is just--politics."

He considers and finally asks, "Who's telling the princess?"

"The queen," says Kane, sounding amused. "She didn't think it was fair to make anyone else do it."

"I'm going to wait until she tells me to leave," Bellamy decides. 

"You'll be expected at your new post in the morning," says Kane.

Bellamy wets his lips; if Clarke talks her mother down, he won't be. So he just says, "Understood, sir."

He goes to read in his rooms, and he can hear yelling from the princess's chambers. He tries to ignore it, because there's nothing he can do. He's a guard, and there's a chain of command. And he was going to have to leave after she got married anyway. For his own sanity.

The argument in the other room dies down, and a few minutes later, there's a knock on his door, tentative.

"I'm here," he says, and Clarke pushes the door open. She wastes no time in crossing the room and sitting down next to him, wrapping her arms around him. Bellamy puts his own arm around her and rests his cheek on her hair.

"I tried," she says. "It's still a good assignment. You'll be--we can see each other sometimes." She squeezes him. "I'm really sorry."

He presses a kiss to her hair, because he has no idea when he's going to see her next, not really. He's been by her side for the last six years, and now it's over, and he doesn't know what the rest of his life looks like now. "It's fine. I'll be around. Someone's got to kidnap you if it goes wrong, right?"

She laughs. "Yeah. And Octavia's your sister. So you can visit her. A lot. When I'm there."

"Exactly." He rubs her shoulder. "It's fine. I was probably going to be reassigned when you got married anyway. Just doing it a little earlier."

"I hate this whole thing," she mutters, and he figures there's no harm in being honest, not right now.

"Yeah. Me too."

*

Bellamy thought the wedding planning would be bad, but it turns out that it's even worse when he's not there. He didn't want to be, of course, but he only sees Clarke in passing, or in public, and he can't tell how she's really feeling. He sees her walking with Prince Finn sometimes, her new guard following at a respectful distance, and they look happy enough from far away, but he wants to know for sure. He'd like it if she got fond of the prince, if the whole thing wasn't awful for her.

Octavia says Clarke misses him, and he misses her too, but there's not much they can do about it.

She shows up at his room the night before the wedding, which is bad, because he's pretty drunk. It's the day before her wedding, of course he's drunk.

"Um," he says, when he sees her. He'd thought she would be Octavia, or maybe Miller. "Hi."

"Hi." 

He waits for her to say something else, but her plan seems to just be to stand in the hallway, which is not safe. Anyone could see her. "Come in," he says.

His new rooms are smaller than his old ones, and he hasn't really unpacked all his stuff. Duke Kyle offered him a position after the wedding if he wants one, and he thinks he'll probably take it, so he doesn't see much point in settling in. No reason to get attached.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have come," she says. "I just--I needed to get away. It's a fucking mess."

"Yeah?"

"I've got so much stuff to memorize, and there's last-minute fittings, and my mother is so stressed I think she might pop." She squints at him. "Are you drunk?"

"Kind of."

"I'm so jealous," she says, sitting down heavily on his bed, for lack of other surfaces to sit on. "I wish I was drunk."

"I can still kidnap you," he says, leaning against the wall. "Just say the word."

"I wish." She looks up at him. "I miss you."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Anyway, I just--Octavia covered for me because I had to get away from my mother lecturing me on the ceremony, and I just--I wanted to say hi. And goodbye, I guess." She licks her lips. "This is weird, right?"

He smiles faintly. "A little. But I'm glad you came." He glances around. "Did you bring your guard?"

"No."

"Of course not." He shakes his head. "Fine. I'm walking you back."

She laughs. "I thought you might."

They walk in silence for a while, until finally she asks, "Are you coming tomorrow?"

"I'm on duty, yeah. We all are."

She nods. "Right. Of course." She rubs her face. "Is it sad that I'm still hoping for a miracle to stop this?"

"A little," he says, and then can't help adding, "But yeah. I am too."

*

In the morning, there's a miracle.

*

Bellamy's stationed outside the doors with Miller, so he won't have to actually _witness_ the wedding, for which he's grateful. There's a lot of commotion inside as they get everything set up, but he figures that's normal--it's a _royal wedding_. Regular weddings are already a lot of work, royal weddings exponentially worse.

He toys with the idea of going in there and kidnapping her, saying she's not allowed to marry some random person she doesn't really care about just so she can be queen. She should be queen because she's going to be awesome at it, not because she married at the right age. But she'd probably never forgive him if he did.

The ceremony is four hours away when Kane comes out, grabs him, and says, "Come with me."

He has time to shoot a confused look at Miller, and then he's being dragged through the great hall and out, down towards some rooms he's never even seen before. "What's going on?" he asks.

"There's been a change in plans," says Kane, pushing Bellamy into a room. It's full of dress uniforms, and he recognizes the royal seamstress there. "Congratulations, you're getting married."

Bellamy stares at him. "What?"

"There was a problem with the groom, but everything's in place and the princess _is_ getting married today. We need someone to marry her. Get undressed, you have to get ready."

Bellamy's obeying before his brain catches up. "What?" he says again, and then, "Why me?"

"I wasn't involved in that conversation," says Kane. "Are you not willing?"

"Where's the princess?" he asks, instead of answering. "Does she know about this?"

"She's aware, yes. It was short notice. Are you not willing?" he asks again, pointed.

Bellamy swallows hard and starts pulling on the dress uniform. Someone is going to stop this. Someone is going to realize he's not _allowed_ to do this. But if no one realizes in the next four hours, he'll be married to her, and no one will be able to undo it. And maybe it's not her first choice, maybe she doesn't want him, but he can treat her better than that stupid prince would have, and he can make sure she remembers to eat, and gets enough sleep, and--

"I'm willing," he says. "What do I need to do?"

He has to memorize a lot of vows and sit still while someone tries to straighten his hair, and he has to _not faint_ , which should be doable, as long as he stays busy and doesn't have any time to stop and think about what's happening. Because this cannot be happening. This cannot be _real_.

"Do I get to know what happened?" he asks Kane, when he finally has a moment to breathe. It's better than thinking about what's going to happen.

"Apparently Prince Finn was already engaged. His fiancee showed up this morning. There was a blow-up, and the princess, her parents, and the prime minister locked themselves the royal chambers for a very long argument. And then they told me to find you."

Apparently _everyone in the world_ knows that if they need someone to marry Clarke, immediately, no questions asked, he's their man.

"Now, no pressure, but if you change your mind at this point, it will be a huge problem for the kingdom," says Kane. "You'll probably be banished. So I wouldn't, if I were you."

And before Bellamy can respond, he pushes him out into the great hall. To get _married_.

He doesn't know what they told the wedding guests, but there's a minimum of whispering when he's the one walking down the aisle. They must have been warned to be on their best behavior, but the gossip will be awful tomorrow. What on earth made anyone think the princess marrying some bastard guardsman was really their best option?

Octavia gave him some details on the wedding party, enough to know that it was very large and very complicated, because there were all these political considerations, and fucking Prince Finn--and seriously, what the _fuck_ \--had a ton of groomsmen. So he's beyond relieved when instead of a mess of people, the wedding party is just Octavia and Duke Kyle. Octavia gives him this grin like this is the best thing ever, which--Bellamy's still too confused to really feel that, but at least someone does.

Kyle claps him on the shoulder and says, "Way happier to see you up here."

"Thanks," he says. He's pretty sure it comes out dazed.

And then there's Clarke, on the king's arm, in her wedding dress, and, shit, he's going to _marry her_. She gives him a small, nervous smile, but she looks awful, and he wonders if she'll ever forgive him for saying yes. He should have kidnapped her instead.

"Please join hands," says the prime minister, and Bellamy offers his hands and lets Clarke take them. She does it without hesitation, at least, and he squeezes her fingers, encouraging. Her smile gets a little stronger, and she squeezes back.

He remembers all his vows, including the ones about protecting the kingdom, which he tried very hard to learn without thinking about what they meant. Marrying Clarke is easy; becoming part of the royal family is something he's not ready to deal with yet. Or maybe ever.

Clarke's voice shakes as she starts her own vows, and Bellamy runs his thumb over her hand, absent. Her voice gets stronger, firmer, and before he knows it, Minister Jaha says, "Let the union be sealed with a kiss," and Clarke is looking up at him.

He swallows hard, wets his lips, and gives her a quick, soft kiss, pulling back before he can really enjoy it, because the last thing he wants to do is start really enjoying himself kissing Clarke in front of a hall full of people.

Octavia bustles her away as soon as the ceremony ends, and Bellamy just gets the chance to give her hand a last firm squeeze before Kyle is taking him too.

"There's a reception, and then you're done," says Kyle.

"I just married a princess," Bellamy says. "I don't think I'm ever done again." He runs his hand through his hair. "What the hell happened, seriously?"

Kyle shrugs. "You got lucky." He grins. "Don't try to pretend you didn't want to marry her."

Bellamy rubs one hand over his face. "This wasn't exactly what I had in mind. She must be so pissed. I've spent six years telling her how I've got her back with this whole arranged marriage thing, and then as soon as someone asks, I jump in and do it myself. Fuck."

The duke considers him. "I don't know the details, but she must have agreed to it," he says. "And I'm pretty sure she was the one who called me in to stand with you, so she can't be that pissed at you. If she was angry, she could have called in Prince Cage, I think he's still around. Come on, get changed. The reception is the worst part."

It turns out that much is true. Most of the people there know him, but as Clarke's guard, not as--whatever he is now. Clarke is firmly in polite, detached princess mode, and it's the last thing he wants right now. All he really wants is to get her alone, to apologize, to ask her what the hell happened and how he can fix it. But instead he smiles and accepts congratulations and follows her lead as they talk to all the people who want to congratulate them. 

At least the food is good.

Clarke is the one who finally declares that they're leaving, earlier than he thinks is probably proper, but much later than he wanted. There's the usual jeering about being excited to make it to their wedding night, which Bellamy wouldn't have expected at a royal wedding, but apparently it's inescapable. He adds that to the list of things he's not thinking about.

"Clarke," he tries, as she's leading him back to her chambers. _Their_ chambers.

"When we're--in private."

He swallows hard. "Sure." 

She glances back. "Thanks," she says, like she really means it. He tries not to wince.

He's been in her chambers a thousand times before, but never like this. She crosses to her night stand and starts taking the pins out of her hair; Bellamy trails his hand over her desk.

"Prince Finn was engaged?" he asks, like this is the most pressing thing they have to talk about.

Clarke sighs. "A northern lady, yes. Raven. She's a noble, wealthy, but not nearly so appealing a match as a princess who will be a queen someday. So when my father sent his inquiries, the prince's family decided it was worth seeing if this would be a better prospect. They were hoping the marriage would be finalized before she found out, but they didn't want to break the other engagement, in case something went wrong." She turns and gives him a wry smile. "Apparently it was common knowledge I was squeamish."

Bellamy nods, mouth going dry. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she's beautiful. He wets his lips and manages, "I'll, uh. I'll sleep on the sofa. It's pretty comfortable."

Clarke sits down on the bed. "How long are you planning to sleep on the sofa?"

He runs his hand through his hair. "It's comfortable," he says again.

"Someone might check the sheets."

"I've got a knife, I--"

She laughs softly and falls back on the bed with a huff. "You've got a knife, of course. You'd rather stab yourself than have a wedding night."

"Hey," he says, hesitant. "That's not--I just don't want you to--" He swallows hard. "I'm so fucking sorry, Clarke. I can't--I shouldn't have done this to you."

She sits back up and stares at him. "Done what?"

He smiles wryly. "I was supposed to kidnap you, not marry you. I know this wasn't--you didn't want--I should have said no. I shouldn't have made you marry me."

"Oh," says Clarke, soft. " _Oh_. Bellamy, you aren't the one who should be apologizing. My parents were panicking, trying to figure out someone I could marry. My mother wanted it to be Wells, but, fuck, I tried marrying the person they picked, and I wasn't going to do it again. This was _my idea_ , Bellamy. It was such a disaster, they were desperate, I told them they could let me marry you now, or I'd do it when I turned nineteen and they could have Kyle for a king." She looks away. "So, yeah. I'm sorry. I should have asked you, but there wasn't any time and I--" She bites her lip. "I finally got the chance to pick who I wanted to marry."

"And you picked me," Bellamy says, disbelieving.

"Yes. Sorry."

He practically tackles her onto the bed, pushing her down and kissing her hard, desperate, too overwhelmed to bother doing it right. She laughs against his mouth, bright and relieved, and he presses kisses everywhere he can, her cheeks, her neck, and then back to her lips. "I wish someone told me it was _your idea_ ," he says, grinning down at her. "I thought--fuck."

"What, you thought my mother picked you?" she teases, running her hands up his back. "I guess you don't mind."

"I fucking love you," he tells her, grinning. 

Her whole face lights up, like he's never seen before, and she laughs. "Good. I was pretty sure." She kisses him, soft and affectionate. "Me too."

*

He wakes up in the morning with Clarke tangled around him, naked, her hair a mess. There's some of it in his mouth. It's without question the best morning of his entire life.

The clock strikes eight outside, and he shakes her shoulder gently, smiling when her face screws up and she nestles closer.

"Hey," he murmurs, carding his hand through her hair. "You probably have stuff to do today, right? Like political fallout and teaching your new husband how to be--what am I, exactly?"

"You don't have a title yet," she says, yawning. "There was't really time to come up with one yesterday. Probably a prince, I don't really know. My mother was worried about it, but I kind of ignored her."

Bellamy groans and rubs his face "Your mother hates me, doesn't she."

"I doubt it. I'm married, the throne is secured, and I'm even happy about it. She probably wishes she'd agreed earlier."

"By _earlier_ you mean, uh--"

Clarke buries her face against his chest; he can feel her blushing. "I told her I wanted to marry you when I was thirteen. She told me I'd grow out of it. I told her again when I was seventeen and she started talking about the deadline, and she said you could be a last resort."

"Oh," he says. "You couldn't have told _me_?"

"Well, I'm a princess," she says, grinning up at him, amused and tousled and absolutely everything he has ever wanted. "Who doesn't want to marry a princess?"

**Author's Note:**

> Clarke POV for this is available [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4039033/chapters/9084082)!


End file.
